Fiona
Apple, Jurassic 5
Arlene
Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway, 796-9293
8 pm Monday, March 20, $24
www.fiona-apple.com
Apple's first
album, Tidal, went triple-platinum. Sales of When
the Pawn... have been certified gold, and climbing.
In the years since her '96 debut album, Tidal, singer
Fiona Apple had seemingly smoothed out her media rep as
a loose cannon. Her new album, When the Pawn... (plus
87 more words; I know, I know, the title is pretentious),
shows a singer piling nuance upon nuance in a punny,
repetitive lyrical style you either love or hate. The creeping,
ominous beats of Tidal are balanced with a little
tenderness and hope. The phrasing can be tricky and lilting
as a Gershwin song yet full of Apple's trademark fury and
dark torment. With these new songs--as in old ones--she
changes direction mid-sentence, digressing and returning
to address the long list of wrongs done unto her, alternating
slowed-down jazzy parts with creeping jungle beats. When
she fills her lungs and lets a bellow out from the hell
inside her, she goes way beyond the self-pity critics accuse
her of.
But during a recent concert in New York City, there was
a meltdown: She reportedly fell to pieces on stage and ended
the concert after 45 minutes. Now folks are feeding on the
unhappy girl once again. Billboard, for example,
gleefully quoted one ticketholder saying, "It's not
OK that I paid for a half-assed performance because little
Fiona couldn't have everything her way."
About this latest unraveling I say, "So what?" We all have
bad days. Fiona Apple just happens to have a lot of them.
Yet people actually get mad when Apple's name comes up.
Their faces contort in disgust, or they dismiss her as a
hyperemotional brat. Often these people have never even
listened to her music closely, if at all. That a young female
pop star can inspire such vitriol seems disproportionate--and
does nothing to lessen my interest in her.
And what about her singing itself? The torch-song intensity
of Apple's voice calls to mind great sorrowful singers like
Nina Simone or Joan Armatrading. The fact that these impossibly
powerful pipes are trapped inside the super-lithe body of
a 20-year-old makes her an all the more unusual--and controversial--talent.
It's not just that she proves--defying the example of Debbie
Gibson or Britney Spears--that some young white girls really
can sing soulfully; she annoys lots of women even
when she's just sitting there. As one friend said,
"I hate the way she's so sexual-looking and so sad at the
same time. I'm interested in her, but I wish I weren't."
Her looks and her weight (or lack thereof) have been the
subject of many a debate--as if her body type or sexual
tastes have any relevance to debates on her musical skills.
So yeah, it gets lonely sometimes being a fan of Fiona
Apple, but it's oh so worth it.
I decided to see if I could find some people who weren't
so damn jaded. Seeking a younger, less cynical perspective,
I headed to the Metropolitan Learning Center in Northwest
Portland, toting a placard that read: Do You Like Fiona
Apple? Me Too!
Sarah Janowsky, 14, was hobbling on crutches with her friends,
Tia and Kira, when I asked them what they thought of Fiona
Apple. Sarah, a devout fan, empathizes with Fiona: "I feel
really bad for her. It's hard to be in the spotlight all
the time. Just because she's famous, everybody's criticizing
her."
I asked Izabel, 13, for her take while she waited for the
bus. She looked like the kind of girl who had overdue library
books in three different states.
"I've heard that song, 'Mistake,' and I've seen the video
for 'Limp.' I'm not really sure what to make of it. She's
sitting there putting on makeup, but not really doing anything,"
she says, then pauses. "I'm not sure what she's trying to
say. It's definitely not as controversial as some of her
videos. She's got a beautiful voice. It just doesn't seem
to fit her body." She went back to waiting for the bus,
puzzled.
Nearly all the girls I talked to mentioned they respected
Fiona Apple for putting so much feeling into her songs.
They wanted to protect her from all the bad press; they
seemed to consider her a friend. I wondered, Who do the
arbiters of taste think they are, always trying to make
these girls' friend out to be some insufferable, overrated
prima donna?
If you love Fiona's music, too, send me an e-mail explaining
why. I have two extra tickets to her concert--and a friend
in need is a friend indeed.
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Willamette Week | originally
published March 15,
2000
|
